Limassol Part 2

 

After a week in Limassol, I still miss Paphos.

While Paphos was mostly quiet with a gorgeous harbor, Limassol has a more big-city feel.  The main road that connects all the coastal towns is the main drag here and it’s less appealing than in Paphos.  There’s construction everywhere, so the sound of machines is constant.

There is one corner near the apartment that is constantly covered in motorcycles.  It reminded me of Thailand and the motorcycle taxis, but these were just delivery guys.  Wolt is the big company here for food and grocery delivery.

There is no nice harbor area nearby with a bunch of seaside shops and restaurants.  There is the old harbor near where I got off the bus from Paphos, but that’s two miles away from the apartment.  I’ve been on the good foot this whole time, so I have not returned to the harbor.

Along the shore there are small narrow beach areas, a broken-up boardwalk (which is annoying as the walkway just disappears for several feet and you have to cross the beach to connect to the next section), and lots of hotels and houses.  A couple of the seaside places have For Sale signs out front, but I don’t even want to know how much they would cost.

I knew I didn’t want to stay in the last place for too long.  The bathroom was starting to really piss me off (no pun intended).  And no, the owners never did show up to replace the lid.  Not that I was expecting them to – like I said before, whoever cleaned the place knew about the issue and never got it resolved.  No matter.  I cut out a night early and arranged to move to another place in the city.

Pro:  the new place is in walking distance, so no need to flag down a cab and try to convince some guy to do his job.

Con: despite getting me nearby, the directions from Google were (once again) not quite accurate.  It got me to the right street, but pointed me to the wrong building.  I had to text the host who sent me a link to a map (that one was accurate).

Pro:  the apartment is as the pictures depicted.  The ‘front’ room is the office area with a decent desk chair, a rarity in the Airbnbs I’ve visited.  As for the rest …

Con:  the listing didn’t specify that the place is technically a studio (usually a pass for me).  Turns out it’s this small, dark, window-less (well, one narrow window in the front and a frosted glass window in the bathroom), oddly shaped … thing.  There’s a sliding glass door hidden by that curtain with the bedroom/dining room/kitchen (and the only heating unit) beyond it.

Pro: the place is clean and functional.  No loose lid on the toilet this time and the shower stall has a door along with excellent temperature control and water pressure.

The ultimate con:  while the apartment is not what I expected, it is decent enough.  Except, of course for the noise.  All that construction I mentioned happening around the city?  Well, some of it is located directly behind the apartment.  And it is beyond annoying.

Seriously, how do these places just keep finding new ways of getting worse?

Still, I figured I’d make the best of it.  It helped that I already knew the area.

On Saturday, 1/25/25 I decided to go out to this place called Barley’s for breakfast.  It’s a British pub I’d visited before for lunch while enjoying some American R&B music from the 90’s.  What brought me back was the rare American breakfast offered on the menu.  I sat there reading while marveling that every song that came on made me feel like the restaurant tapped into my personal computer.  When my pancakes and eggs arrived, Paper Planes by M.I.A was playing.  That is only my favorite song of all time. 

American breakfast in a British pub on a sunny Saturday in Cyprus.  The whole experience put a smile on my face for the rest of the day.

The next day, Sunday, I woke up to the sound of electric saws.  At 7 a.m.  Are you f*&king kidding me?  Then, an hour later, the internet went out.  I switched to a different modem, which worked for a couple of hours ... then the power went out.  It stayed out for several hours.

So, no.  I won’t be extending my stay in this place.

On to Limassol

 

After 5 weeks in Paphos, I figured it was time to explore more of the island.  While I was reasonably comfortable in the apartment, the longer I was there, the more issues I encountered which led me to not extending my stay again.

The floors were constantly covered in this sooty residue and I know I wasn't tracking anything in.  I've mentioned before that the building was old and retained the cold.  I also think that the vents were spitting out this dust.  The constant hacking I heard from the neighbors would seem to confirm that theory (so much noise through the thin walls!).

I came back one day to find that the power had gone out.  No big deal, it's happened before in other Airbnbs.  This time, though, it was just mine and one other building in the immediate area and the power was off for hours.  I didn't want to leave to get dinner and have to fumble my way back in the dark, so I ended up having another no dinner night in the place.  Also, I couldn't take a shower because of the dark, so it was a fun night all around.  Power was mercifully back on by morning. 

So, once the three weeks were up, I thought it time to move on.  At least this time, I knew the bus system and should easily be able to move between the cities.  Right?

Why then was my first experience using the intercity buses so much easier than my second?  Despite knowing what I was doing this time, the travel day ended up being a complete mess.

First off, Google.  The Maps function usually doesn’t steer me wrong, but in this case, it told me to catch the bus in a municipal parking lot.  Okay.  That doesn’t sound right.  I entered ‘bus station’ repeatedly into my phone and it kept telling me to go stand in the middle of a parking lot where there was no signage, no bench, no nothing.  Seriously?

There was an elevator shaft nearby since the parking lot was at the base of a hill.  I took it up, expecting to finally see an actual station.  Nope.  Just a sitting area flanked by taxis.  I asked a cabby where I could catch the bus.  He made some vague gesture that the station was located elsewhere, but notably, did not offer his services.

That’s something I’ve noticed in Cyprus.  Not only are the cabs outrageously expensive, but the cabbies act like they don’t want to get a fare.  When I first left the apartment, I found a taxi stand a short distance away.  I told the lady I needed a ride to the bus station.  She told me it would be 10 euros, but that it was only a 15-minute walk.  Okay.  I guess I can walk it … with all my crap … over uneven Cypriot sidewalks … in the blazing sun … while holding my phone to get directions (to a parking lot).  Sure.  Sounds like fun.

And boy, was it.  I left the second taxi stand, thinking the station was nearby, but no.  After wandering around for a while, I returned to that same taxi stand.  I asked a different dude where I could catch the bus and he told me about the actual bus station that was about a mile away.  Just take me there.  Whatever money you want to charge me is fine – just get me there.

Arrived at Karavella station and waited.  And waited.   And waited.  There was a bus already there with signage for Limassol.  But that wasn’t the bus.  Plenty of other buses arrived that were also not the bus.  I really hate waiting.

Finally, a bus arrived and let out its passengers.  I knew the driver would take a break before reloading, as I’d watched others do during my stupidly long wait.  But, come on, dude!  I’ve already traveled over half the city, I’m tired, I haven’t eaten since breakfast, and I just want to get this travel day over with. 

Then, at last, we were allowed to board.  And no, at no point during the hour-long trip did we ever hit that parking lot that Google recommended.  Thanks for that.

I'm not sure why the bus driver had a mermaid doll splayed on his windshield, but I had to take a picture of it.

The trip went well enough.  The spaces between the cities consists of a whole lot of nothing.  Just huge rock mountains with a few scattered towns.  We hit some traffic coming into the city as Limassol is bigger and a lot busier than Paphos. 

I wasn't sure where the bus route would end but, as I was following our route on my phone, I thought to get myself as close to the apartment as possible.  I watched most of the passengers get off at the Limassol bus station, leaving me and one guy on the bus.  We got to the next stop and the driver got up and asked where we were going.  Before I even had a chance to answer, he yelled that it was the end of the line.  Fine.  I'm leaving.  You could have just said that as soon as you stopped.

Now I'm on the side of the road.  I recognize it as the place where I changed buses on the way to Paphos.  But what do I do now?  I'm staying in the city, I'm at least 2 miles from the apartment (and screw walking all that way after the day I'd had), and I didn't know the local bus system.  Sigh.  Time to catch a cab again.

And again, the taxi drivers ignored me.  I thought maybe they couldn't stop in the bus lane, but, as more and more taxis zoomed by me, I started to take it personally.  They see a woman with luggage on the side of road waving and think what?  I'm just being friendly?

I lugged my crap to a nearby taxi stand and managed to convince a cabby to do his job.  He got me to the place with no problem and I found my way into my new home for the week.

My last place wasn’t as nice as the first place I stayed in Paphos.  It was still cozy enough to extend my stay for 3 weeks.  The new place makes me miss the last place.

It's spacious enough and has a gas stovetop (thank you!) but ....

I hit the bathroom first thing (of course) and immediately noticed that the tub (Yay!) had no shower curtain (Boo!).  Why is this so hard for Europe to get right?  Even the last apartment had a partial partition on the shower stall.  But this place?  Yeesh.

Then, the real corker was the toilet.  Not only is the flushing mechanism confusing -- the knob on top that I kept trying to push down or twist until I figured out that you have to pull it up -- but the toilet lid just fell off when I tried to close it.  Are you kidding me?  You know that whoever cleaned the apartment KNEW that the toilet lid was loose but did nothing about it.  Oh, no, let’s just let it be a surprise for the first sucker who rents the place.

I hate that bathroom.

I messaged the host, not only to get it fixed, but to make sure I didn’t get charged for breaking the thing.  They said they’d be out to fix it at a time that was convenient for me.  We’ll see how that goes.  Until then, I’ll just be staring at a gaping toilet whenever I go in there.  (I’m keeping the door closed).

Once I found the big issues with the apartment, I really began to notice the small things.  And, boy, are there a lot of small things.  

Why is the floor so scuffed up?  I already don't like the white tiles as I prefer the hardwood I've had in most places.  But to see that the floor is this messed up (there are scuffs like this all over the apartment) just makes the place feel scruffy.

Why is there a lock on the refrigerator?  I have never seen that before. 

I’ve also never seen a patio with two sliding glass doors.  No screen door – two sliding glass doors.  WHY???

My first place in Paphos had a screen door – a rarity in Europe.  The only issue?  Whenever I’d open the door in the morning, a cat would appear and immediately start screaming at me.

I miss Paphos.

New Discoveries in Paphos

My continuing exploration of Paphos led me to the harbor, about a mile away from my current apartment.  It is the city’s main attraction, drawing all kinds of people to the shops and restaurants, the outdoor exercise area, and plenty of places to walk and sit.  A nice place to hang out and I’m glad I first saw it during the gorgeous sunset shown above.  

In one of the restaurants by the water, I spotted yet another pet bird just chilling, as big birds tend to do on these islands. 

And I discovered that I own a taxi stand.  Sweet!  That means I get a discount on rides by dropping my name, right?  Right???

For the record, I now own a hotel in Istanbul and one in Rome, a clothing store in Sophia, Bulgaria, and a restaurant in Athens.   I may be a nobody in the states, but I am a baller in Europe!

On the morning of 1/8/25, I got an email from Google regarding an update to my account info.  They have decided to change my country region from the U.S. to Portugal.  I thought that odd since I’m currently sitting in Cyprus, but I ain’t mad.  I have spent more time in Portugal than in the U.S. in the past year and half and, of course, I do want to make that country my home.   I just didn’t expect this change to happen so soon.

I guess this means that my cell will now work with Google FI in Portugal again.   I’ll have to use esims for any visits to the U.S.  That will be … different.

Yet another incentive to get my a$$ to Mars – I mean Portugal.  Ten points if you get that reference.

The email inspired me to do a tally of my time outside of the states since 3/23.  In no particular order:

               1 month in Greece

               1 month in Costa Rica

               1 ½ weeks in Jamaica (still too long)

               1 week in Singapore

               2 weeks in Bulgaria

               2 weeks in Montenegro

               1 week in The Netherlands

               1 week in Ireland (not long enough)         

               3 weeks in Thailand

               1 month in the U.S. (roughly)

               2 months in Cyprus (and counting)

               5 months in Türkiye

               8 months in Portugal

Equaling 22 months of travel.  Can you figure out which ones are my favorites?  When I first started this journey, the main 3 countries that I wanted to explore as a potential home were Portugal, Thailand, and Costa Rica.  Now the big three are Portugal, Türkiye, and Cyprus. 

Speaking of finding a home, I figured I’d investigate apartments in Cyprus just out of curiosity.  Most of the 2-bedrooms I found are way too expensive at 1500 euros and up in Larnaca (my preferred city), Paphos, and Limassol (I plan to hit that city next).  The only places under 1000 euros are in Nicosia.  Haven’t been there yet and have no plans to go there, mainly because the city is further inland than the other places I mentioned.  Hence the lower costs.

Call me spoiled, but I really need to be in walking distance of the water.  And, yes, I know I’ll have to pay for the privilege.

I periodically check Idealista.com for apartments in Portugal.  It’s currently not looking so good for places in Funchal.  Most are in the same range as the ones here in Cyprus.  Places in Portimão are more reasonable, though.  I do love Funchal, and it is still the goal for my next home, but it all depends on my budget.   If I ever get a job and a visa, Portimão might become home.  I figure as long as I make it to Portugal, I’m good. 

During this first week of January, I was watching the news from the U.S.  Devastating fires on the west coast, deadly snowstorms on the east coast.  Sigh.  The world’s going to hell and, unfortunately, the U.S. has a head start.

I really need to get my a$$ to Portugal.

My Time in Paphos Continues

 

Christmas morning started out bright and sunny, but it didn’t last long.  Before 11 am it began to get rainy and rumbly.  Bummer.  I really wanted to go outside for a walk by the sea. 

Fortunately, the weather did clear up enough later in the afternoon for me to take that walk.  The picture up top was taken on 12/25/24 as I wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to miss the opportunity to walk along the Mediterranean on Christmas. 

It is deathly quiet in Paphos.  Unless you’re walking along the main street, you would think the place is almost deserted.  I don’t know if that’s because it’s the off season or what, but it’s a little strange.

The sun also sets early on the island.  I’ll barely be finished with lunch and it’s already getting dark. 

I’ve expressed numerous times on the blog how it fascinates me to see so many living malls across Europe.  Cyprus is no exception.  The King’s Avenue Mall in about a mile away from the apartment and is amazingly vibrant.  I don’t think I even spotted a dead store anywhere in it and the grocery store on the bottom floor is always hopping.  Even when I visited just after Christmas, the place was crowded. 

Again, America, because everything is in walking distance, because there is a grocery store, and because this third place (a meeting place that isn’t school/work or home) is vital to the community, these malls manage to survive.  They continue to thrive even after the pandemic, even with the rise of Amazon and food/grocery delivery services.  When it’s easy to access a place, even for kids and teens, people will go to that place.  It’s not rocket science. 

As much as I like the apartment, there were some issues I could do without.  I’ve mentioned multiple times that I hate corner showers.  Not only is there one in the apartment, but the hot water is solar powered.  And we’ve had some rain, as I mentioned.  The shower was never cold, but it didn’t always get as hot as I would have liked.  I couldn’t even take a shower on my last night there because the water never heated up and I was too tired to fuss with it.

Then, there’s the bed.  It’s thin mattresses like this one that really make me long for my own familiar bed.  That thing and I were fighting every night as it ended up bothering my lower back, my left shoulder, and my right hip.

Oy.  I’m getting old.

After two weeks, it was time to move on.  I wasn’t ready to board another bus, so I found another place in Paphos, about 2 miles from the first place.  There is no Uber on the island, so I decided to haul all my crap to the diner for breakfast and hope to catch a cab on the main street afterwards.

Well, that plan was a bust.  I didn’t spot a single cab as I ate breakfast so I had to trudge up the road a bit to get to a taxi stand.  The man who picked me up kept calling me “My Lovely” in a British accent, making me think he was British.  Then he spoke Greek to the other guy in the car, so I was confused.  Was he a Brit who learned Greek or a Greek who learn English from a Brit?  Just part of the swirly culture on Cyprus.

While the new host sent me pictures to enter the building, it was still confusing.  And dark.  And wet.  Yes, the day was mercifully sunny, but there were still puddles everywhere from the rainy day before.  The asphalt around the building isn’t in great shape and the building could really use some more lighting, especially for newbies like me. 

I finally got to the floor … and it was still dark.  I couldn’t find the light switch …  because it was dark!  I turned on the flashlight on my phone, but couldn’t figure out which door I needed.  There was a woman sitting in the hall who helped me tremendously by hitting the light switch and guiding me to the right door.  Thank you, mysterious lady hanging out in the hall.

The new place is … fine.  I liked the old place more, but it was booked up.  The place uses its space well, is simply decorated, and, like a lot of places I’ve encountered on this journey, a lot nicer on the inside than you would guess from the outside.

But, alas, there were some issues.

The apartment is cold.  I don’t know if it’s because it’s an older building or what, but I know that the temp didn’t drop that dramatically from the day before.  It’s still around the low to mid 60’s on the days it’s not raining, but inside … yeesh.  I was in the place only a couple of hours before my hands started to freeze. 

It didn’t help that I couldn’t figure out the A/C.  There is a wall mounted unit in the living room and another in the bedroom, both run by remote control.  I’ve grown accustomed to that.  But when I tried the remote on either unit, I got nothing.  The remote would light up, but the units would not respond. 

I also couldn’t get the oven to work.  Cyprus is big on switches to turn off the fuses and individual outlets.  I was used to that as well.  I switched on the one for the cooker, getting power to yet another induction cooktop, but the oven would not work.  I spent the first night in the place freezing and starving with a plan to contact the host in the morning.

Remember that ‘deathly quiet’ I mentioned earlier?  Well, apparently that only applied to the old neighborhood.  The new place is much noisier.  That’s to be expected since the windows face the street as opposed to my last view of the deserted pools and the occasional cat striding by. The neighbors are way too loud as well, providing yet another reason for me to miss the last place. 

After a decent night’s sleep, I was determined to figure out the appliances and stave off contacting the host.  Morning is wiser than the evening, I always remind myself.  And Eureka!  I realized that, yes, even the power for the A/C units need to be switched on before you even get to the remote.  Once I found the one in the bedroom, I knew to search for the one in the living room.  And … heat!  Glorious heat!

I would really need a warm apartment because it was time again for my hair-washing ritual.  Already a time-consuming effort was made even more of a challenge thanks to Cyprus power again.  Like the last apartment, the water heater runs on solar power.  I was last in Cyprus in May, so sunshine was not a problem then.  But now it’s December.  And, as I’ve mentioned, we’ve had a lot of rain.  This will be fun.

There is a boost on the water heater on the chance that there is not enough hot water.  Didn’t help much.  I have a lot of hair, it takes a lot of water to wash, and when the water barely gets lukewarm, I’m not happy.  I did manage to get my hair clean, but did not look forward to battle with the hot water again.

As I was stuck inside with wet hair, I was again determined to figure out the oven.  I had already bought groceries with plans to use it and that frozen pizza I’d bought for lunch was not going to fit in the microwave (not that I’d try).  After scouring the entire kitchen, making sure every power switch was turned on, I focused on the oven itself.  I starting pressing some buttons and Voila!  Yet another cooking device made way more complicated than it needed to be.

I ate my pizza nice and hot from the oven.

The Scenic Route to Paphos, Cyprus

 

                                                               Outside of Athens Airport

Ah.  The joys of a middle seat when you have 3-foot-long legs and are already tired of sitting on planes.  Yes, that was the fun I experienced on the flight out of the U.S.  I’m usually kinda jazzed to once again be leaving the country, but this time I’m just tired.

That fatigue worked in my favor as I slept during most of the overnight flight.  Landed in Heathrow for a bit of a layover and then it was onto security.  My 20-minute ordeal with security trying to find a .66 mil container of lotion in my computer bag during my last trip through the airport was still fresh in my mind but, mercifully, there was no issue this time.  The flight back to Lisbon was just as uneventful.

I’d flown to the states this time on a round-trip fare from Portugal as it was cheaper.  It also put me in a decent position to fly to my next destination.  I spent another night in VIP Picoas and headed back to the airport the next day.

This is where my issue with taxis really comes into play.  I’d taken an Uber from Lisbon airport to this same hotel when I travelled in from Faro and it was about 11 euros.  That same trip by taxi, depending on the time of day, costs anywhere from 13-30 euros.  The last guy also complained that I didn’t tip him (he’d also complained earlier about having back issues and not being able to help with my bags – seriously?  And you still want a tip?).  The convenience of having the cab waiting in front of the airport is usually not even worth the extra expense.  You’d think I’d learn that lesson by now, but I’m still stubborn like that. 

Just as an aside; I’m still using esims for my phone since Google Fi cut me off from international travel (still works perfectly fine in the states).  For some reason, the last couple of sims I used in Portugal would just randomly stop working.  This is part of the reason I was so quick to hop a cab as my connection to Uber was often spotty.

Another plane, another country.  It’s a four-hour flight from Lisbon to Greece.  I’d taken this same flight way back in the beginning of my journey and I was even less eager to leave Portugal now than I was then.  At least this time I wasn’t staying in Greece.  The Athens airport was just a means of getting back to Cyprus.

Except … why do the departure signs in the airport show that there is another airport on the island?  I’m flying into Larnaca, the airport I’m familiar with, and yet my accommodation in located in Paphos.  Are you telling me that Paphos airport is a short bus ride from my Airbnb while the airport I’m actually flying into is two hours away?

Really?

Oy.

I made this same mistake when flying into Montenegro.  I flew into Podgorica when I should have flown into Tivat and had to pay for that exorbitant taxi ride between the two cities.  How was I to know at the time?  When I searched for flights to the country, I just assumed the first airport that came up was the main (if only) airport in the area.  Sigh.  Another live and learn moment.

I’d already be arriving in Larnaca after 11 pm.  I could not face the idea of a 2-hour taxi ride from there to Paphos (which would cost about 130 euros!) followed by an exhausted fumbling for keys to get into the new place, in the dark, while lugging all my crap.  Couldn’t do it.

I booked a one-night stay in a hotel in Larnaca and figured I’d sort out getting to my apartment when I was fresh the next morning.  After arriving even later on Cyprus than planned (the flight was delayed), waiting far too long for my bags, and having to hail a cab to the hotel (that still cost 20 euros – it’s 2 miles away, my dude!), I still had to fumble for keys in the dark.  The reception desk had been abandoned by the time I got there, so the owners sent me pictures and instructions to get in.

It was a clean enough place.  There was a bed.  I slept.

The next morning, I scouted for some breakfast before trying to figure out the bus routes on the island.  Oh.  Yeah.  The sun on the Mediterranean.  Can’t beat it.  It’s why I chose to spend the next three months of exile from Portugal on the island.  I don’t have the bandwidth for anywhere new and, as I learned last year, my dear Istanbul is way too cold and rainy this time of year.  Cyprus remains sunny and warm at around 65 degrees F.

Still miss Portimão, though.

While sitting at breakfast in a seaside cafe, basking in the sun, I had a moment to think.  The last few days had been rough with all the travel and I still had another day of land travel before settling in my new home.   I was tired, anxious about my employment situation and my dwindling bank account, and uncertain about how the rest of the day would go.  But I was in Cyprus, a place I liked, and it was beautiful.

And this is my life at the end of 2024. I had breakfast while watching the sunrise in Lisbon and the next day, I watched the sun set in Paphos.  I may be ready to return to being a cat lady/hermit with a boring desk job in Portugal, but I can still appreciate the amazing moments I’ve had on this journey.

Meal done, I went back to the hotel to check out.  The nice lady at the desk showed me how to catch the city bus into the center of Larnaca.  A short walk from there took me to the boardwalk along Finikoudes Beach, a place that was already familiar to me.  From there I caught the bus from Larnaca to Limassol.  Once there, I caught another bus to Paphos.

So, just to see some numbers, 20 euros for the cab ride from the airport, 53 euros for the hotel room, 2.40 for the city bus, 4 euros a piece for each of the intercity buses, and 13 euros for yet another cab from the bus station to the apartment.  Altogether, that totals 96.40.  Would taking a cab for the entire journey be easier?  Yes.  But since I am really tired of paying for overpriced cabs, I think saving 30-40 euros made all the transfers and waiting more than worth it.

The apartment turned out to be worth the trouble as well.  It’s a spacious place with a huge bedroom and a direct view of the pool.

The ocean is about a mile away while the city center is a mile in the other direction.  I’ll be here for two weeks, the longest I could stay as the place is booked up.  After that I might make my way to Limassol on the way back to Larnaca.  I don't know yet.  After the last week, I’m really not in the mood to make any more arrangements for a while.

My first morning in Paphos, I went to a local pub for breakfast.  And yes, I want food and not a beer at 10:30 in the morning like the people at the table near me (no shade on them, I just can’t get with the ‘every hour is beer hour’ attitude of the Brits/Irish).  As I’ve mentioned before, Cyprus is crazy with Brits as this place can attest.  It’s a British pub playing British music and featuring screens showing football (American soccer).  There were ads on the radio for relocation services for Brits looking to move to Cyprus.    

As I ate my big English breakfast, the genial Irish guy who ran the place asked where I was from.  When I told him the U.S., Georgia, he immediately responded with “that’s too bad”.  It made me laugh, but when he added that it was like adding a lift to a toilet, I only laughed harder.  Unasked, he then proceeded to give me all these tips for getting around the island, including a warning about the crazy prices of the cab drivers.  Good food, good atmosphere, and good tips.  Can’t ask for more as a tourist in a new city.

Oh yeah.  And cats.  Don’t forget the cats.

Too Many Planes, Too Many Airports

 

Yeah.  I knew that time was coming again.

You would think that I wouldn’t want to go through the separation anxiety of leaving Portugal ever again, so I just wouldn’t keep coming back.   But I’m not that bright.  Can’t stay away from the country, have yet to secure a bag to remain, so … gotta leave again.

This sucks.  Hard.

I was very happy in my pink palace in Portimão.  I didn’t do anything terribly exciting, hence not posting to this blog in a month.  I worked on my online store, tried to get some of my other writing done, and basically chilled.  Total all, I had two glorious months of not having to get on a plane, two months of regular walks along a gorgeous beach, two months of not having to plan my next moves.  It was lovely.

And did I mention that the hosts sent their cleaning lady, a nice woman from Brazil, to clean the place twice during my stay?  Can I tell you how much I loved that?  I’ve never hired a maid in my life, but I might have to consider it the occasional special treat once I find my new place.

That last week or so was a bit on the taxing side, emotionally.  Not only was it the stress of leaving my most recent comfy home, but I came to the harsh realization that two years out of work has done a serious number on my bank account.  There is still no hope on the job front.  Just news of more layoffs and the confirmation that ageism is alive and well in this horrible job market.  My online shop has been open for a couple of months with zero sales.  I’ve gotten plenty of phishing emails and people looking to scrape more money out of my pocket in consultancy fees, but that’s about it.  It’s all been very demoralizing.

Adding to that stress, I was faced with yet another trip across the pond.  More fun.  I figured one last trip to the U.S. before January and the return of the orange regime. 

It’s just gonna get worse, people.

Anyway, there was nothing I could do about leaving Portugal as my Schengen days were coming to an end.  Sadly, I packed up and prepared to leave. Remembering that horribly expensive taxi ride into the city, I took a far cheaper Uber back to Faro Airport (more about the stupid expense of taxis in a later post). After one of the longest ½ hour flights I have ever had (why are children … children?), I was back to the VIP Executive Picoas in Lisbon.  I do love that hotel.  So comfy.  I booked my stay for two nights (including breakfast, which I still recommend) before the flight back to the states.

My short stay in Lisbon was enjoyable as always.  The city was all lit up for Christmas and full of tourists, even if the weather was a good 15 degrees cooler than in Portimão (I miss it so much!).  There was a Christmas Market in the park with carnival rides and an ice rink (seriously?  How?  It wasn’t that cold.).

I visited my favorite Hard Rock Café and was stunned to find that one of the waiters recognized me.  What?  The last time I went to that restaurant was six months earlier – the reason I remember that is because it was Easter Sunday and stupidly packed.  Weird, though, that I didn’t remember the dude.  I’m sure I’ll remember him if he’s still working there the next time I visit (he was definitely a cutie).

Way too soon, it was back to Lisbon Airport.  The flight to the U.S. was marked by having to switch my aisle seat in the very back of the plane to a seat near the flight attendant’s sitting area.  Not sure why the switch, but at least I had leg room for days.  A quick layover in Philly and then it was back to the ATL.

I hate that airport.  I didn’t used to before starting this journey.  Now it makes me itch every time I see it.  Still, the transition from plane to baggage claim to tram to car rental went smoothly enough.  Then it was off to an Airbnb I visited in January.

Still as cozy as ever, I did the standard things there during my short stay.  Mail pickup (including retrieving samples of the very t-shirts I had designed – very pleased with them, I must say), reupping on supplies, and dying my hair again.

I met the host on the way out of the place and we had a nice chat.  I filled him in on some of the places I’d visited since last seeing him and encouraged him to make his own way to Europe.  He said I was killing him with all these travel stories.  I told him I was killing myself as I’d hoped to be housed in Portugal months ago.  I confirmed his opinion that the Portuguese are a laid-back people living lives that aren't consumed by all the daily crap that Americans deal with.  That's just one of the reasons I'm still trying to get back there.  But for now …

Back to the airport.  Yeah.  I can’t keep doing this whole transatlantic hopping thing anymore.  The money, the butt-numbing time on uncomfortable planes, the stress – can’t keep doing it.  I was on the plane to the states when I realized that I need to do this as little as possible in the coming year.  I just can’t handle it anymore.  Screw dying my hair, screw getting the mail, and, as I had no income in 2024, screw having to fly back to do my taxes.  I need to remain in Europe for as long as I possibly can.

Still Happily in Portimão

 

Things continue to go well in Portimão.  It’s gotten a bit cooler and windier, but the sun is still shining (which I love so much).  Daylight Savings Time ended on Sunday 10/27/24, so the days are shorter now.  We’ve gotten a bit more rain, but that just makes the sunny days all the better.

I’ve extended my stay in my current cute pink apartment for a total of two months.  That makes this the longest I’ve stayed anywhere since I sold my house back in March 2023.  I’ll hate to leave the place as, when I do, it will also be time to leave the country again, but at least I’m enjoying my time here while I have it.

A couple of weeks prior to this post, there was a frisbee tournament on the beach.  Lots of teams and spectators in cordoned off areas for their matches.  One area was set up with bleachers for the larger matches.  Once the tournament was over, everything was quickly demolished, and a bunch of volleyball nets were set up.

As in the states, the Halloween decorations quickly gave way to Christmas trees and lights.  Again, there's no Thanksgiving holiday outside of the U.S., so it's a smooth slide into the end of the year festivities.  Once again, though, because of my timing, I won't be able to spend the holiday in the country I love.  Pesky tourist visa expires before 12/25/24.

I’m still reeling over the results of the 2024 U.S. election. 

Sigh.

The next four years are going to be bad.  Really bad.  A lot of people are going to die.

But, since there’s nothing I can do about that and as I already have one foot out of the country, the only thing I can do now is get my other foot out.  The job search has been nothing but a frustrating dead end. After a year of searching, I can’t even bring myself to look at another listing. 

The data analyst course I was taking ended up being another non-starter.  The course was estimated to take 3-6 months.  When I wasn’t done after nine months of waning interest, I knew that was not the route for me.  I don’t care how much an analyst can make, if I hated doing the work, I couldn’t pursue that career.

So, Instead I have opted to become an entrepreneur.

I opened a print on demand shop a few weeks ago.  I’ve had this thought in mind for about a year now and finally just decided to take the leap.  Despite all my research, the learning curve has been a steep one.  No sales yet, but I’m keeping hope alive. 

I’m also still posting on Medium.   Though the amount I’ve earned over the last year is only enough to buy me a single cappuccino, I do keep trying.  My goal is to eventually have multiple sources of income.  It’s slow going so far which is … sigh.

Here's the link for the shop if you’re in the market for a snazzy new t-shirt.

www.thetangyteeshop.com

Randomness on the Road Part 5

 Happy Halloween from Portimao!  Here are more tidbits I've observed during my travels.

I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned this dude before, but this is Cristiano Ronaldo.  He is a football (American soccer) player who used the jersey number CR7.  He is practically worshipped as a god all over Europe and especially on Madeira where he grew up.  The picture was taken through a shop window -- it's a custom-made rug with his mug on it.  There are hotels bearing the name CR7, people wear his jersey everywhere, and he has his own museum in Funchal.  There’s even a statue of him outside of the museum where people rub the crotch for good luck. 

I seriously don’t think that man can live in his own country anymore.  He’d probably be mobbed on a daily basis.

Ronaldo's Best Moment with His Fans in a Coffee Shop #cristianoronaldo #football #fans #respect

Another face I keep seeing everywhere is Frieda Kahlo.  Her uni-browed visage shows up a lot in souvenir shops on tote bags and purses.  The first shot is from Montenegro while the second is from Türkiye.

In trying to make the best of Negril, Jamaica while I was there, I decided to get a massage on the beach.  The ladies who ran the place seemed surprised that I was interested and barely knew what services they offered.  Since the ‘facility’ was a bare bones space upstairs from a bar, the lady sent me to the nearby restaurant to disrobe.  I was then expected to put on a towel and carry my belongings back to the massage space. 

I got to the tiny bathroom, having nowhere to even put my clothes while I was changing, and immediately changed my mind about the whole endeavor. I realized that the draw of the service was the open-air view of the ocean, but I just wasn’t feeling it. Yet another way Jamaica got on my nerves. 

Thanks Jamaica!

I have an odd relationship with dogs.  Most of them are drawn to me.  I was walking on a beach in Hilton Head (I think) and a pair of dogs that were playing together slowly moved their way to me across several feet of sand just to say hello.  I once walked on the main street near my old house and had a pair of dogs cross the street to get to me (again, not a threat – just to say hello). 

For every two encounters I’ve had like that, there will be a dog that sees me and immediately starts barking.  No reason, I wasn’t doing anything in any of these instances.  That’s mostly been my experience in America.

In Europe, it’s been … different.  Most dogs completely ignore me.  I quickly got used to this in Türkiye as most of the street animals ignore people as a rule.  But even the leashed dogs tend to walk by like I’m not even there.  And yet I’ve encountered a few barkers as well.  Go figure.

I’ve read that dogs are drawn to a person’s scent, to their good energy.  Call me crazy, but I think there are more good or at least less stressed people in Europe so the dogs are just used to it.

I've seen these dealies in a couple of places, mostly Greece and Cyprus.  The door key controls the electricity.  As soon as you take it out of the slot, everything that isn't essential (refrigerator, power to computer) shuts off.  It takes a while to get used to, but I never worried about misplacing my key once inside.

There are a lot of tattoo parlors in Europe.  I first noticed this in Greece where even the small towns on the islands have one or more places to get inked.  The guy giving you your buttery croissant will likely have arms covered in artwork.  It’s mostly the dudes, but some of the chicks do as well (they’re also more likely to have nose rings or piercings).  Not many colored tats though, most of the designs I’ve seen are all in black.

Another recurring theme I’ve seen all over the souvenir shops is the evil eye.  Big in Türkiye, Greece, Cyprus, it’s on jewelry and clothing and takes many forms.  Also big in souvenirs?  Dongs.  Most of the souvenir shops carry statues of different sizes, including quite a few of some very happy naked men in Greece (I would have included the picture, but I don't want this post to get taken down).  

Or if you don’t need a whole statue, you can just buy a decorated wooden dong bottle opener.  If ever you need to play the “My dick’s bigger than yours” game, you can just whip one of these out and declare yourself the winner.  And then you can open a celebratory bottle of beer.